


Hashtag

by impressmyism



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Other mentioning of the queens but nothing major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 06:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impressmyism/pseuds/impressmyism
Summary: Vanessa and Brooke deal with the aftermath of THAT certain tour date before Vanessa leaves the S11 tour. Basically it fucks everything up in a good way.





	Hashtag

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap, I actually wrote something in... years. The urge to write comes and goes but I just had to get this off my head and heart for my own sanity so um, here you go. This is my first RPDR fic ever yet I've read so many of them so this is new territory for me. More notes at the end. Waaaah.

She could feel it in the air.

Some kind of shit was bound to happen.

She wasn’t prepared for it but when was he ever prepared for it? The high off the crowd, the applause, the constant teasing from Asia… the gutted feeling in his stomach when she had to reveal that tonight was his last tour date (well, at least in the North leg was concerned).

And then she could still feel the leftover warmth of Brooke’s hand intertwined with hers. Fuck. _Fuck_. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Vanessa cursed to herself in both English and Spanish as she basically rushed past her fellow queens to have some sense of privacy in her dressing room. She shared it with Silky but she knew she’d have some time to herself. She was eager to rub the makeup off, strip down and become Jose again, and maybe the feelings she was feeling would simply disappear if she got rid of her armor. 

It was her job right? Putting on a show for the fans? Playing along with everyone to make them happy when all she felt at the moment was fucking overwhelmed and dread. She sniffled. And then sniffled again. She was crying.

The universe really fucking hated her and her heart.

Her makeup and shit was everywhere in her little area, glaring at the beret and fanny pack that seemed to be the catalyst for everything in the past two days. In between her tears, she felt angry that she almost let herself slip back into what she called “happy mode”. 

That’s what she called it whenever Brooke was around and it seemed to bring out the best, optimistic self out of her. That’s also what fucked her up the first time around of being together. “Happy Mode” came and went when the reunion aired and they were faced with the internet’s wrath and disappointment. But now, many months later, “happy mode” still lingered. Some months she was great without it, never having to see Brooke or talk to her and now, now, it’s tip toe tapping at the door of her heart, wanting to come in and fuck up all the “progress” she made.

It would be so much easier if she could just hate the Canadian ballerina.

In the midst of removing makeup that was already ruined by her tears, there was a knock at the door.

It wasn’t Silky. Silky would just fucking barge in with no problem. It had to be one person and she wasn’t ready for it. 

Another knock.

Vanessa fought the urge to vomit to speak. “It’s open!” _I guess_ , was unsaid. And the bane of her pain and happiness turned the handle to show Brooke was indeed on the other side, somewhat out of drag. Instead of expressing word vomit, Vanessa raised an eyebrow as Brooke moved to lock the door and stood against it. “What are you thinking about, toes?” The mention of the nickname caused Brooke to smile a little. 

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Tense, quiet, somewhat awkward, you could hear a pin drop. No one said a word. No one looked away from each other and Vanessa felt her chest tighten. This was new.

Finally, Brooke spoke. “It was real.”

“What was real?” They were still looking deep into each other’s gaze, not breaking away.

“On the stage tonight. That was real, wasn’t it? Holding your hand, your arms around me. Touching you like that…” Brooke trailed off, he couldn’t get the words out again. That was always the struggle, expressing emotions and feelings but shit, Brooke was working on that still. 

“Touching me like that did what to you? Cos what it did to me, it’s fucking me up right now. It felt nice, too nice, too perfect like… like… you’re supposed to be there all the time.” Vanessa wasn’t gonna cry, not again and not in front of Brooke. “Why can’t I just get you out of my system?” It wasn’t directed at Brooke, more to herself but loud enough for the other one to hear.

Brooke didn’t respond but crossed over the few feet still in the ballet shoes and force Vanessa to look up and not at the mirror which was beginning to become her friend. Vanessa felt that familiar warmth again but this time, caressing her face, a finger grazing over her still painted lips. 

The feelings were still highly present in both of them. They still loved each other, still in love with each other. And stubborn as fuck.

And then it became this big blur of how Vanessa was on her feet, on her toes, being held tightly against Brooke, lips brushing against each other, nuzzling, the comfort of familiar territory. “You kiss me again, it’s over. I can’t pretend anymore.” Vanessa demanded in a whisper and the blonde’s lips formed a smirk before kissing her.

It was a soft kiss but passionate, nothing like that little peck of a kiss on stage to appease everyone. “Don’t play with me.” Vanessa repeated, more for herself than it was for Brooke who kissed her again.

“Not playing,” Brooke mumbled against her lips. She lifted Vanessa off the ground and sat her on top of the vanity, making sure there wasn’t in the way to smash or break. Brooke moved to place himself in between Vanessa’s legs, looking directly into her eyes. Her lips were parted, a little fuller from their kisses and if they had continued further, she’d look as if she was deliciously fucked. “We’re gonna do this, it’s gonna work this time.”

“What changed? Me leaving you this time around?” Vanessa’s response wasn’t a big sting to Brooke’s psyche but it was well deserved. 

“That and seeing you with that twink stirred something in me. Can’t lose you to that… _child_. Infant.” Brooke made a face of disgust and it was the first time Vanessa managed to truly laugh. It seemed to break the ice even further.

“It’s not like that,” Vanessa said, still trying to control her laughing.

“I don’t care,” Brooke was now laughing but fell serious enough to say this. “You’re going to always be mine, you know?”

“Yeah I know, bitch.” Vanessa grinned, the laughing was gone from her body. “Nobody out there like you. We’re so screwed.”

“We can be screwed together.” 

It wasn’t official official but they knew where each other stood. Things were going to be different from here on and for once, Vanessa was thinking more clearly with her head and not her heart, and Brooke was doing the opposite. It was a balancing act they could conquer together. 

Before they could share another kiss, Brooke pulled out his phone and opened the camera. “Just… stay like that.”

And Vanessa heard the shutter of the camera before she could respond. “What was that for?”

“Don’t worry about it,” The tall queen shrugged and leaned in to give the smaller queen another kiss, a longer one, no tongue. Well, not yet. But they would get there as they continued to kiss. Hands were gripping and squeezing in areas, Vanessa’s leg wrapped around Brooke. They were lost in their own world to not even acknowledge that the door handle into the small dressing room was jiggling back and forth.

“This better not be fucking locked!” It was the voice of Silky, desperately trying to get in. And it was purposely locked since Silky could see the light was on from inside through the bottom of the door frame. “Bitch! You better not be doing some freaky shit in there!” 

Silky’s loud exclamation caused a ruckus among the other queens who were suspecting that since both Vanessa and Brooke were missing, well, that something was back on.

Said photo taken would sit and be edited briefly and sit in Brooke’s Instagram drafts until the time was right. The only thing she typed under #branjie equipped with an orange heart emoji.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have as much work here as I do over at ff.net (roswellchick22) but I'm getting there to possibly move everything here. Also, if you want to follow me on tumblr (impressionism), you can if you like random spooky fashion bits.


End file.
